Monthly Archives: August 2015

“Care of the soul is not solving the puzzle of life; quite the opposite, it is an appreciation of the paradoxical mysteries that blend light and darkness into the grandeur of what human life and culture can be.”

“We can be the curates or curators of our own souls, an idea that implies an inner priesthood and a personal religion.”

In preparation for memoir writing, I’ve been visiting my past, seeking out the important influences on who I’ve become. I’m on a mission, to figure out who I am beyond mother, lover, and nonprofit/volunteer leader.

What I know about seeking out the deepest parts of myself is that it requires a seduction of the soul. I need to start by seeking out those things that light me up – the tiny things, the everyday things that make life sparkle no matter what the day holds. I learned this years ago from Thomas Moore. His books were instrumental in my ability to embrace all of my quirky interests, from what books I chose to read to being pierced with needles when I felt the need to (sometimes physical body rites call to you as a ritual representing the transformation taking place in your psycho-spiritual body).

Soulful things that never change for me: Candle light. The burning of of my favorite incense I bought years ago at a Buddhist temple or sage or Palo Santo given to me by a dear friend. A glass of wine or cup of tea or a caramel mocha. A piece of quality chocolate. An elegant and tastefully sexy dress or nightgown that feels pretty. Hours steeped in a book that stimulates both my mind and my heart. Music that makes my heart flutter. Fresh flowers on my altar. Tarot readings. Writing. Creating with my heart and my hands. Yoga. Walking in nature. Blowing bubbles. Poetry.

Recently I listened to Elizabeth Gilbert’s podcast on creativity and she counselled a mother and artist who was struggling to find her voice to have an affair with her creativity. I found resonance in that advice. I need to have an affair with all of myself. I need to call back the pieces of me that fade into the distance when I adapt to the needs of the people I love. Rather than find myself, I need to remember myself. Who I am beneath the labels and the relationships they represent. Who I am when I’m not giving/sharing some part of my self empathically.

I was inspired as I began this post to pull Care of the Soul off the shelves last night and immediately felt the allure to dance with my soul, to nurture the quirky parts of myself that are dying to be set free. From there I will shape a life that is not defined by caring for others. My life will be defined by my needs and desires.

Like a deeply loving, intimate, interdependent, transformative relationship with the man I love. Incredible, nourishing sex that both expresses and intensifies the magic of our connection. Gentle interactions between two wounded healers basking in the kindness and generosity that is new and precious for them both.

Time to write for myself and for my art. Quiet to sit with words and find the shape of the stories I need to tell. Space to experiment with my hands immersed in clay, paper, paint, and glitter. The feel of squishy, wet materials between my fingers. Making beauty.

The building of a creative work that combines my writing, art, and community building. A work that allows me to collaborate with other conscious creators, people who want to transform their communities and nurture connection in innovative ways. A work that allows me to support others in deepening their relationship to their soul and their emotions. A work that grows radical inclusivity – spaces where everyone is welcome without masks or walls. Space where people can be free to be themselves and know that they are seen and held. A work that grows belonging.

I find it both fascinating – and obvious – that I need to go deep into solitude in order to one day build community. It only recently occurred to me that what I am building will take some time – years rather than weeks or months. Just like raising my children was a long road, the creative work I am now pregnant with will take time to birth and nurture into fullness.

I’m not just writing a book or incubating a creative idea, I am simultaneously building a new self and a new story of who I am. Instead of being driven by the need to survive and transcend hardness and trauma, I am now motivated by the desire to thrive. It’s new territory to explore.

What does it mean to thrive? What does it look like to live beyond the identity of survivor when all your life you’ve been fighting to be something more? What does success mean beyond overcoming – overcoming poverty, overcoming mental illness, overcoming the inheritance of abuse? Won’t it be fun to find out? It’s a whole new kind of evolution for me to get off on.

As I finally settle into the reality that my partner adores me, loves me and holds me exactly as I am, and will rise to any opportunity or challenge that comes up in our lives, I recognize that I am finally thriving in intimate relationship, something I have hungered for all my life. I desire to nurture our relationship and our building of a life together, from choosing where and how we live to what we will save for and how we will nurture our own and each other’s creative pursuits. I want to immerse myself in the wonder of Us for a little while. To know what it is to have Us-ness rather than be constantly yearning and aching for it.

I am learning that life doesn’t have to hurt anymore. I don’t have to confront my birth mother pain every day to be a good Amma. I don’t have to fight anyone for anything. I don’t have to overcome. I can change circumstances that aren’t working for me. I can rest. I can be more than content. I can learn what it means to thrive.

Honesty and Hope (aka No Pain No Gain) by Sheila Kalkbrenner at painexhibit.org

“Wholeness means embracing brokenness as an integral part of your life.” Parker Palmer

Two days ago I woke up with the worst kind of Fibro pain, the kind in my back where it can even hurt to take a deep breath. Usually my pain sits somewhere between a 2 and a 5 on the pain scale, hitting a 6 or 7 during flare ups. But this is like an 8 when I move and nothing is bringing relief. I can mildly mitigate it by smoking pot, sitting very still against a lot of pillows, and using a heating pad. My back is actually discolored from how much I’ve used a heating pad over the past year. I’ve scarred the top layers of skin because it’s a small sacrifice when heat relieves the intensity of the ache.

While it is relatively easy for me to accept heart brokenness, it is damn hard to embrace this brokenness.

I don’t understand what the pain is teaching me. I am doing everything I am told I should make things better – good diet, supplements, medicines, yoga, walking, good sleep, and support from my loved ones. I don’t know what else I can do.

I am on my third day of bed rest and the fogginess of dealing with pain through heavy use of marijuana (yay for legalization!). I called in sick to work today because I can’t imagine trying to sit in an office chair all day, especially without the relief of the only medicine that works for me right now but isn’t allowed in the workplace (it’d be fine if I was on narcotics!). I have to go back tomorrow no matter how I feel because I only have one day of paid time to spare. While I am blessed to receive generous PTO, since I was hired in February a conglomeration of physical, emotional, and family issues have required me to take leave as I earn it.

This kind of pain is rare for me. I can usually function through my pain at all levels – at least enough to get through a work day and a bit of time with the baby. This is disheartening since I’ve finally taking Lyrica again and had such high hopes it would help. It still could, especially since I’m only a couple weeks in and taking half the dose that worked for me before. But I don’t see my doctor again till next week. I just don’t know what’s causing this intense flare up or if I can do anything to make it better.

Pain is stealing life from me. I miss my friends. I miss going out – to movies, music, theater, art shows, etc. I miss being active in volunteer service and leadership in my community.

I miss being able to help with our son the way I did before I started working. It’s hard to admit to myself or anyone else, but I felt like a Mama then and I don’t anymore. That makes this brokenness so much harder and contributes to my need to move out.

I wish the people around me could truly understand what it takes to manage pain on a daily basis and how withdrawal is the kindest choice for all. When my pain levels are higher, I have to minute-by-minute spend some part of my attention on pain management. I have to do what I can to make myself comfortable. I have to push the pain into the background of my mind and diligently hold it there so that I can focus on work tasks and have grace with the people I interact with (rather than taking the pain away, weed helps with this). I mindfully manage my pain so that it doesn’t take control of my emotions. I’ve seen the way pain can consume people and then they walk around flinging it on everyone around them in hurtful ways. Retreating into the most comfortable place I can be is my way of preventing my pain from hurting others.

I desire with all of my being to have relationship and build community. I am confounded by how this brokenness is an obstacle to doing so. Pain is stealing my life and I need to figure out how to get it back.

I am excited to finally be back on Lyrica – the one medication that truly helps my Fibro pain and makes me functional outside of work. I was without it for over a year due to it being a very expensive drug, being on a state healthcare plan that wouldn’t cover it while I was unemployed, and then struggling to find a primary care doctor that would take me on (because apparently I’m “complex”) and prescribe it after getting insurance again. It’s been a fucking process to get something that significantly improves my quality of life. I am seriously happy to have it back and the potential of less pain.

But after a week I am on the roller coaster of initial side effects – sleepiness, dizziness, spaciness, general brain weirdness, and vision alterations. Side effects are stupid. I get that it’s a drug that works on parts of the brain, so the brain has to get used to it’s presence. That doesn’t make it any easier to deal with a whole new set of symptoms, even for the short term. Work and home still require a fully functioning brain and I feel like I’m falling short, damn it.

One of the hardest aspects of chronic illness is the constant fluctuation. Things change all the time – day to day, month to month – from how much pain I have to how much brain capacity I have to how different substances and medications impact me (like I can no longer drink more than a couple ounces of beer or wine because it prevents sleep). Much of my energy goes to managing symptoms so that I’m functional enough to work full time and help support my family. It’s wild to imagine the life I was living 5 years ago – working full time, raising a teenager, running an all volunteer organization on the side, and dating. Now I’m only succeeding at full-time work and my relationship with my partner. My other relationships and my creativity are suffering. I’m hoping Lyrica will change that.

At least there is a light at the end of the tunnel, as long as it works like it did the first time. I can’t imagine what the pregnancy would have been like without it. Keeping up with a two year old is definitely hard without it. I have hope that this could be a game-changer for me and the people I love.

*Art from painexhibit.org. “The PAIN Exhibit is an online educational, visual arts exhibit from artists with chronic pain with their art expressing some facet of the pain experience. The mission is to educate healthcare providers and the public about chronic pain through art, and to give voice to the many who suffer in silence.”

After all my bluster about being an emotional mountain climber, sadly I am writing to tell you that our experiment in living together as a family is not working out. We decided this past week that we need to live in separate homes. We’ve been in a pattern of avoidance for awhile, then Mama Jen and I had our second falling out last week. We’ve come to acknowledge that there is just too much pain and intensity around our individual and collective processes – some of which have to do with the adoption and some that don’t – to be able to manage life joyfully under the same roof. We are all hurting for our individual reasons and we are trying to take responsibility for each other’s feelings by avoiding conflict and the vulnerability of sharing our personal struggles.

I learned that Mama Jen is feeling more and more guilty about being happy with Lake because of my heartache, which is not ok. I need for my son’s Mommy to feel free to be happy with him. That’s the point of my giving her this gift, so that she can know the joys of motherhood. Unfortunately what she didn’t know, because I haven’t been talking about my process with her, is that I feel compersion and joy when I see and hear them happy together. I love when I hear him giggling when they play, or witnessing her teach and him learn. I devour the pictures and videos on the Facebook group. It’s only aspects of his behavior in wanting/choosing/calling her – and rejecting me – that get to me. Nothing about her behavior as a mother hurts me. She is an incredible mother. Far better than she gives herself credit for. Even with my extremely high standards for parenting, I couldn’t have wished for better. All I’ve wanted since I knew it was her child in my belly is for her to be happy in her motherhood.

We need to choose the most loving and kind way to move forward as a family and separating seems to be it. We agree on the reasons for separation – that there is too much pain right now and there are some irreconcilable difference in how we live in a home. No shame and no blame, at least not toward one another. There is already a sense of relief and a new lightness in our interactions because of this decision. We are still a family choosing love and generosity every day.

Chris and I are planning to find an apartment and cash out a small 401K account he had in Humboldt that will make moving easeful, as well as help Jen and Gaius so that everyone’s needs are met in the transition. They are hoping the landlords will allow them to find a new roommate situation so they can stay in this great house. We’ll come up with some arrangement for continued time as a family, as well as time for Chris and I to have Lake for sleepovers and other adventures.

For myself, I had the insight that an unconscious reason I made this choice is because it felt safer to continue being a mother and a woman overcoming adversity – two foundational pieces of my identity – than to start a happy new life with Chris in an empty nest without big emotional challenges to navigate daily. I healed the identity neurosis of Borderline Personality Disorder in my early 20’s by building my foundation on being a mother who puts my children first and being a survivor-artist who turns my suffering into meaning and beauty. Moving in with Lake continued to fulfill both of those identities for me in some ways. I’m not sure who I am beyond those identities and I need to figure it out for my own well being. I need both physical and emotional quiet in which to recover and heal from a life of continual emotional stress before I can bring both my best self and my best work into the world. I need to let go of being a mama and learn to be an Amma. I need to evolve into an writer-artist who turns suffering in the world into meaning and beauty rather than focusing on my own pain. I now see crafting a prescriptive memoir as a bridge between who I’ve been and who I’m becoming, discovering the parts of myself beyond mother and survivor, as well as establishing my “expertise” in self directed psycho-spiritual development so that I can support others in recovery from emotional and mental illness.

I have to admit I am struggling with feeling like a failure and fraud as a community builder, something I’ve been researching and talking about all year. I am not accustomed to failure. I wonder if I could have done better and if it would have made a difference. And I’m worried that I’m letting everyone down by being unable to make this work – Lake, his adoptive parents, the journalist who invested her time and art in us, Yahoo News that invested money in our story, and all the people who’ve been touched and inspired by us.

On the other hand I know that we are all deeply courageous, generous, and loving for having tried to do something most people imagine to be impossible. I pushed the edges as a birth mother allowed to have any relationship I desire with my child and I learned there is a limit to the intimacy I can manage with him and his adoptive parents without suffering too much pain over what I’ve lost. That isn’t a failure, it’s just my humanness.

Writing my memoir, crafting the Radical Mystic project, and transitioning into the identity of writer-artist-community-builder that I’ve been craving for as long as I can remember is going to take some time. I have healing and self work to do before I can focus on my work in the world. I need to build a new foundation of identity based on something other than motherhood and surviving trauma. While I will continue to write here regularly, I am going to stop being concerned about writing the right things in the right way to draw an audience, or platform building, or getting the memoir done as quickly as I can. I will make my art with the simple goals of understanding and expressing myself in this process of transition for now. If I touch others in the process, that’s an extra blessing.

I gave the first half of my adult life to being the center of emotional safety and belonging for my children. As a dear friend reflected to me, now I need to take this time and emotional freedom to give birth to and mother myself. I am in the middle of a life changing process of healing and redefinition. I am evolving as a woman, as a mother, and as an artist and now I am creating the circumstances in which I can thrive as all of these things. I need to know who I am becoming and find my new belonging before I can build community and nurture belonging for others.

I am relieved and heartbroken. I am excited and scared. And I am ever so grateful that I have a family who loves me and will hold me through this transition, no matter where we live.

*Image is an artist trading card I made several years ago – I am the First Work of My Heart. I’ll finally be living fully living into this truth.

If you enjoy this blog – please come to radicalmystic.com – as I will eventually stop cross posting.

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